Can't Say
by LadyMonoceros
Summary: [SlendermanxReader] After murdering the school bullies and your abusive parents, you escape into a nearby forest to be caught in the freezing rain. A certain pair of black dress shoes approach you just before you fall unconscious. You later wake to find out that you're inside the fabled Creepypasta mansion! Slenderman wants you as his Proxy, but someone else has his eyes on you.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm back! Sorry I went and disappeared (I doubt many, if any, cared...).  
>As for that other xReader fanfic... yeah. I'm most likely not going to continue with it. I just... don't know where I want to go with it. And I'm not as familiar with all the Creepypastas as I'd like to be so that I can write the best scenarios possible. Sorry. <strong>

**Anyway, here's a fanfic that I WILL complete, because I already know how I want it to end! I'm also crazy familiar with Slenderman, anyway. **

**Lastly, this is just a pilot chapter, which is why it's pretty short. I plan to make the rest of the chapters decently long. At least 1500 words each.**

**Enjoy! And please review!**

_Chapter 1_

Despite the summer's warm breaths of air, freezing rain chilled your skin, soaking your bones, as it trampled hard onto your body. You had hoped to take shelter under a large oak tree, expecting its full branches and leaves to block the rain. There was no where for you to go – not for a better hiding place, anyway. As your body shivered uncontrollably, you regrettably began to reminisce the reasons why you were in this predicament in the first place.

You had killed them.

All of them.

The bullies, your parents; they were all dead by your hands.

It was a well thought out plan for someone your age. A young teen in high school, making about average grades only so you could get out of school and get away from everyone. That didn't happen, though. You couldn't stand it anymore. Instead, you had snapped. You plotted out taking care of the bullies first.

There wasn't much that you could remember – not in great detail – of how you killed those wretched girls that tortured you every school day. All you did know was that their throats had been slit over the bathroom sinks and toilets. Something about making a clean kill was to your liking. Right after slicing the final throat with a scalpel you had stolen from biology class, you darted out of the back door, racing home before anyone could notice yours and the girls' disappearance.

As for your family, they were a little complicated to kill; however, you had watched their living patterns for several weeks, taking note of every detail. On that particular day, your lifegivers both had the day off of work. It was still ten in the morning, and they were sleeping in. All you could remember was the musically sweet gurgling of your mother and father drowning in their own blood. There was, however, a flash of some rage that you had. Perhaps something set you off – the memories of their abuse and ridicule? Before the bubbles of blood finished boiling, you had begun to repeatedly stab your parents in the chest with that same scalpel from school. Only after the strong scent of iron filled your lungs did you manage to stop yourself from continuing. Your parents had been long dead by then.

You made your final escape into your back yard. A thick forest awaited you, branches outstretched as though welcoming your sinful self.

It was too late to question morals. You had gotten your revenge. Now you had to live with it.

Unfortunately, your planning of this particular day ended at the murder of your parents. You didn't think things through on where you would hide or how you would survive on your own. There was no doubt that the police would be searching for you within mere hours. The only thing you could do, for now, was make as much distance between you past and present as your legs could carry you.

That's when the clouded sky broke out into a downpour of cold rain. You quickly found an enormous oak tree with thick cover, taking shelter underneath. Despite this, you were already soaked, and the tree wasn't much help.

So, there you lay, curled against the base of the wooded giant and shivering like a madman. The dim sky reminded you that it was just barely noon. Night wouldn't fall for quite some time, and already you felt as though you were going to die. At least the rain was washing away the blood you had become stained with.

A deep voice faintly kissed your ears. At least, it sounded like a voice. Maybe you were hallucinating and it was just thunder in the distance?

"She lacks the purity I crave," the deep, honey-lemon voice was clear now. It seemed as though the owner were talking to himself.

A pair of pristine black dress shoes calmly stepped into your view. From what little you could see, there seemed to be equally as black slacks perfectly hanging above the footwear. Your vision blurred, then darkness overwhelmed you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Woo! Two chapters in one day! I've been needed to write again, anyway. I put it off for quite some time and all this writing energy started building up. Hehe**

**Anyway, here's the second chapter!**

**Watch your booty. wink wink**

_Chapter 2_

You awoke to that dreadful ringing in your ears. It was the only sound in the room, save for your breathing. This room, though, was most unfamiliar. The luscious bed covers and sheets were what you noticed first. They were a dark burgundy, barely visible in the dimness of the room's light. All that illuminated the area was a gray aura beaming through the silk window curtains. It seemed to be daylight, but you weren't sure how long you had been unconscious.

The next thing that caught your attention was the fact that you had new clothes on. Nothing special. Just a set of long-sleeved pajamas and a matching pair of paints. They weren't even your favorite color.

Then it hit you: someone dressed you. Someone saw you naked!

Your heart lept into your throat, full of dread and panic. Reminding yourself that you were in a stranger's home, you held down the urge to scream. The best thing to do was keep quiet and sneak out as soon as possible.

So you did – or tried to.

The window wouldn't budge. It looked pretty old and worn, so it was probably jammed. The last thing you needed to do was break the window open. That would make too much noise. Besides, from the view outside of the window, you were on the second floor of whatever sort of building you were in.

A vast expanse of towering dark trees were spread as far as the window would allow you to see. Sprouting from the limbs of these dark trees were vibrant orange and yellow leaves. The contrast between the bark and vegetation was surprisingly striking. Never had you seen these sorts of trees before. Where exactly were you?

Shrugging off your wonderment, you decided to act on the now and figure out the later when it became a now. It made sense in your head, anyway.

Tip-toeing across the room and to the modestly decorated wooden door, you placed a hand ever so gently on its cold bronze knob. The faintest of sounds involving metal against metal irked you. It didn't matter that you were probably the only one who could hear it. The fact that you were making any noise at all was bad enough. If only you could stop breathing and still function. Luckily for you, the door pulled open without a peep. In fact, it was eerie how silent it was, almost as though it didn't even exist.

The dark hallway didn't bode well for your plan of escape. The further down its length you looked, the darker it became. How long was that hallway? It was then that your eyes took in the vague shapes of other doors and doorways; all evenly separated as they lined the hall walls. They didn't matter to you, though. You needed a staircase or elevator, depending on what type of building you were in. So far, it seemed like a large house. A mansion? It was decorated rather royally.

Shaking your thoughts aside, you tried to focus on task. One at a time, you inched your way down the wooden floor of the hallway. It never creaked. It never groaned. The ringing in your ears continued to sing to you.

It was only a few feet down the length of the corridor that you began to hear a sort of rushed thumping grow closer to you. It sounded distant at first, sort of below you. Someone was coming up the stairs! You still didn't quite know where they were.

In a fit of panic, you dashed into the first door nearest to you, swinging it open and nearly slamming it closed, but you caught yourself. Once again, it was dark. Darker than the hallway. You didn't mind, though. You were too busy listening for the footsteps that padded toward you, then past you. A nearby door clicked. You were safe.

Or not.

Raspy gasps of breaths sounded somewhere behind you. Someone was in the room with you. Your heart dropped. You could feel your skin grow pale as your blood began to drain to who knows where. Then, the voice followed with the gasps of air.

"Why," a weak male voice brushed your ears as he gasped between every few words, "must you guys play hide-and-seek in my room?"

Should you speak up? Should you just walk out? And what sort of place was this where strangers who kidnapped you are playing hide-and-seek of all things? Now you were ultimately puzzled.

"Who is it?" The mysterious male's voice rasped again.

Considering how he sounded sick or injured, you didn't think that this guy was one of your kidnappers. Maybe he was a victim, too. Thus, it wouldn't hurt to speak up. Heck, he might even know what this place is.

You parted your lips, ready to answer your possible new friend. Taking in a quick breath of strangely delicious air, you considered what you could possibly say. "Hi, my name is _?" No, that's too informative. You wanted to remain cautious. What if he was a cop? "I was kidnapped?" There was still the chance that he was one of your kidnappers. "Tell me what's going on first?" Yeah, that's good. Demanding and stern. You didn't want to seem weak in front of a supposed threat. So, you manged to get out the first two words of your selected sentence, but then the door behind you swung open. You were easily knocked to the floor, managing to catch yourself on your hands and knees. Others noises of someone grunting and things clinking violently reached your ears.

The light flicked on, illuminating the whole room quite well. You were hardly able to take in your new surroundings before a creepily playful voice sounded behind you.,"My, my. It seems our new piece of candy has woken up." You slowly turned your head to peek over your shoulder, partially not wanting to see who this person was. He had just referred to you as a "piece of candy", which could only mean one thing: he was a rapist.

At the very moment you laid eyes on the supposed rapist, you found yourself staring at a black and white clown of sorts. His long cone-shaped nose and feathered shoulders were the oddest parts of him. Horizontal stripes littered his long sleeves and leggings. Black overalls clasped onto the midsection of him. His attire certainly confirmed the worst in your fears. This man looked to be someone who had been put in jail, which meant that he did something pretty bad, which meant that he probably raped someone!

In a spastic jolt of realization, you covered your very vulnerable posterior with your hands and spun around on your knees. "Please don't rape me!" The words escaped your lips before you could think over how futile they would be against a dangerous person such as that.

"Rape you?" The clown arched a brow at you, almost as though he had never heard of the word before.

A familiar raspy voice sounded behind you, "She doesn't want to play, Jack."

With a shrug, this "Jack" smirked and stepped around you toward the other man's bedside. You cautiously followed Jack with your eyes, still covering your butt. The man he approached looked normal enough. Normal skin, normal dark hair, a normal face. The only thing odd about him were the dark circles under his eyes. He must be in bad shape.

You climb to your feet and took the liberty of inspecting what was going on at the bed. Jack had carried in a silver tray of several different dishes. One involved steaming soup, another a simple glass of water, and a plate of toast. In one corner of the tray, there were a handful of prescription medicine bottles. You deduced that this still unnamed man was very ill.

Never mind that, though. You were supposed to be escaping this place. Yet, the fact that no one was panicking on your ability to move freely around this mysterious building puzzled you. Maybe you didn't need to escape just yet. The first couple of words, you stuttered, still not sure if you could speak freely. May as well try, though, "Where am I?" This was not as demanding and powerful as you had originally planned. Stupid!  
>Jack carefully placed the silver tray and its contents over the other man's lap. By now, the sick man had sat up, though still looking fragile. Jack glanced at you, "Why, you're in the great Slenderman's mansion, tootsie-pop."<p>

You flinched at Jack's utterance of your new nickname. It was better than what the bullies would call you, but still.

Then it struck you. "Slenderman," you mumbled, concerning yourself over how familiar that name sounded. Even Jack's appearance seemed recognizable, after further thought.

"I was told that there was a new Proxy candidate," Jack continued on.

"Proxy," you echoed. Thoughts and memories swirled in your head as you tried to search for why these things sounded so darn familiar. And then it call came flooding back. The Proxies, the Slenderman, Laughing Jack, Jeff the Killer, Sally, and so many more Creepypastas! "Oh, my friggin'-"

A long, black finger was placed over your lips to stop your outburst. Jack cooed, "Now, now. Let's keep things down in Masky's room. He needs to rest."

Your eyes nearly popped out of you head as your conclusions were further proven correct. Excitement, panic, fear, delight; all these emotions wanted to burst out of you at once. You were actually in the Creepypasta mansion! The one that you had read stories about on the internet! The very building that everyone thought of as just a load of fairy tales! What's even better is that you were a candidate for becoming a Proxy!

Okay, okay. Keep calm. Don't fan-girl around the Creepypastas. They might kick you out before you get a chance to prove yourself.

After catching your breath and calming your blood, you asked Jack if it was okay for you to wander the mansion. To your surprise, Jack replied, "Go right ahead, peppermint." The nickname wasn't so much of a surprise, though.

Struggling to suppress your excitement, you lightly bounced out of Masky's bedroom and strolled further down the hall toward the stairway that you had heard footsteps from earlier. The hall light was on now, most likely Jack's doing. The dark wooden walls were decorated with exquisite antique paintings and tapestries. No doubt, this was Slenderman's collection of historical items over the many millennia he's lived through. You bit your lip, still fighting your urges to giggle madly, and descended the grand staircase. It dark gray marbled steps were beautifully carved, and the bronze hand railings gave a wonderful accent against the otherwise gloomy colors within the mansion.

The very moment your foot reached the bottom of the staircase, a powerfully deep voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere. Your ears filled with his all too soothing sounds. "_," he called your name. For the first time, you actually enjoyed hearing it.

You glanced around the large tiled lobby that was lit up by a grand chandelier above you. Eventually, your eyes landed on a tall, pale figure. His sharp suit clashed with the utterly white skin of this faceless man. You know exactly who he was.

"Slenderman," the name slipped off your tongue without a thought.

You would soon regret your mistake.


	3. Chapter 3

**Oooh right! Here's the third chapter! :D Things will move a bit slow for a while, but it'll pick up in the next two or three chapters. I promise! I plan for this to be a bit of a long fanfic. HUGE build-up to the ending. Hehe**

**Thank you, stripesthetiger11, for reviewing! It means a lot. :3**

_Chapter 3_

You had little time to react to the several jet black tendrils that enveloped around your body. Heck, you barely had time to let out a yelp before one of the dark vines squeezed across your mouth, nearly gagging you. These appendages of Slenderman's were not gentle. They threatened to kill you, suffocate you. Another slithered its way around your neck, tightening just enough to effect the flow of blood in your arteries. Shadows of very apparent, scowling eyebrows wrinkled the otherwise smooth face of the Slenderman. He looked furious as he pulled you closer to him, holding you in mid air just below his would-be eye level. Static filled your head. You began to feel a nauseous pang in your stomach. Your vision blurred, but you could easily see your captor's lacking face.

"From now on," Slenderman's deep voice sounded over the static in your head, "you will refer to me as 'Master' or 'Sir'. Fail to comply, and I will dispose of you." Despite his lack of eyes, you felt the heavy glare of your new "Master" weighing down on you.

Straining from the tendrils that fiercely gripped your head and neck, you managed to nod your head with little hesitation. This Slenderman was not the one you had read about. He was not the caring leader you had read in fanfictions so long ago. This creature was much more dangerous, even to a Proxy candidate.

When you thought you could bear the squeezing of Slenderman's tendril any longer, he released you. He wasn't so kind as to set you down, but rather dropped you from where you were being held. Surely you fell a foot or two. One of your ankles didn't handle the fall well, and it twisted just enough to send you collapsing on your aft. This could also be from the lack of air you had gotten. Your form curled on the marbled floor, cold and solid. You gasped for air, trying to catch your breath. Even then, you could feel your Master's stern gaze falling on you.

With the feeling that he wanted you to prove yourself, you forced yourself to stand. If you wanted to be a Proxy, then you had to be tough – especially for this less-than-fatherly Operator. Still gasping for air, you hung your head, not even sure if you should make some sort of eye contact. What should you say? Should you even reply? You decided to take that risk. "Yes, Sir," was all you said.

Your mind quickly reminded you of how you had seen Masky in his condition earlier. Maybe he slipped up and insulted Slenderman? If that was the state Proxies would be left in, you certainly didn't want to make that mistake. So far, the lack of discomfort was a welcoming sign to you. It meant that Slenderman wasn't angry with you for speaking up.

"_," your Master accosted you, dragging you out of your fearful thoughts. Craning your head up to meet his invisible gaze, you waited for Slenderman to continue. He said, "You will have one week from tomorrow morning to prove your worthiness to become my Proxy. I suggest you give it your all, or face a most painful ended to your miserable life."

That wasn't very nice. Sure, you were bullied and abused, but to call your life "miserable" was incredibly rude. Not that you could reply with a riposte. That would surely get you killed before you "Master," you stuttered, afraid to speak out of turn.

"Yes?" Slenderman replied, almost as though he expected you to bring something up.

Seeing your opportunity to continue speaking freely, you asked, "What happened to Masky? Will he recover?"

Though it wasn't audible, you felt a sigh escape Slenderman's wake. He seemed reluctant to do so, but he answered, "Masky has been severely injured by an old enemy of mine. Or rather, by one of his own minions. I suggest you take in what you see with a grain of salt, for you will soon be a part of this war. Most likely, you will also end up in a similar condition to Masky's at some point or other."

"Oh..." your eyes wavered to the marbled floor. The thought of yourself in Masky's place felt nervewracking. But, if the Proxy has lasted this long, then you should, too. That is, if you can even prove your worth first.

A rumbling in your stomach snapped you out of your concerning thoughts. It was then that you noticed the lack of static in your head and how you didn't feel sick anymore. Again, you felt the fear of speaking out of turn. It seemed that Slenderman already had you well trained as a reserved Proxy.

You were going to ask your Master if you could get something to eat, and even where the kitchen was, but he responded to your rumbling stomach with a long, white, index finger pointing behind you. Spinning on your heel to face Slenderman's silent directions, you came to face a long hallway. It looked quite familiar to the one you had ventured along upstairs, yet this one had Gothic structured windows lining one of the walls. This all, like the first time you exited your room, was long and dark. At least you knew there were light switches somewhere, so you planned to search for them during your travels throughout the mansion.

Assuming that you should make your way down this hall and the kitchen will be within immediate view, you kindly thanked your Master, then began your adventure.

First off, you couldn't find the light switch – anywhere. It was a complete mystery, after walking twenty or so feet down the corridor, as to how the lights were to come on. Lucky for you, the windows were sending through enough light for you to make out where you were going. Doubly as lucky, it was daytime. Not so lucky, though, you crossed paths with someone you really didn't want to meet alone.

The first thing that gave you a hint that someone was approaching you was the strong scent of cigarette smoke. The second thing was the trickling of water sloshing against glass. By this time, a white figure melded into your vision from far down the hall. You stopped, dreading who it might be. An orange glow flew up to the figure's upper regions, then began to brighten for a second or two. It then lowered back to its owner's side, swinging back and forth. Again, the sloshing of some liquid rang faintly in your ears. Then, as the figured passed a window, you saw him.

Jeff the Killer.

He looked to be in about his late twenties. Long, black hair; wiry and frizzed. The dark lines of old scars curved from the edges of his lips, forming an excessive permanent smile. His not-so-white hoody was stained with old and new blood stains. You guessed that he washed it every so often. His dark eyes caught your attention, though, freezing you in your tracks. Fear overcame you. If Jeff was anything like Slenderman had acted, you were in for a terrible trip to the kitchen.

There was no turning back, though; no escape. Jeff had already seen you staring at him. He didn't look amused. "What?" Jeff spat at you, then began to cough and hack.

"Nothing," you forced out of your mouth. Something told you that keeping quiet was the worst idea you could possibly have. So, you tried to hold a conversation with the infamous killer. "I was just going to the kitchen. Do you know where it is?" Stupid! Of course he does!

Once Jeff finished his coughing fit, he wiped his mouth with his already stained sleeve and nodded his head over his shoulder. "End of the hall. On your left." He paused, tilting his head as he began to stare at you curiously. "Hey," he blurted.

"Umm," you hesitated, "Hi."

"I just realized that you're a girl." Jeff began to approach you, quickly closing the distance between you two. He shoved his cigarette into his mouth and used his now free hand to grip your chin quite roughly. "Pretty thing. But I could make you beautiful," he emphasized his last word quite well. It sounded practiced.

At first, you weren't sure what Jeff had meant, but your memories of all the Creepypastas were still coming back to you. It did soon snap that Jeff was offering to carve a smile into your face. "No! No, thank you!" You denied his offer as kindly as you could, but that didn't seem good enough. Your mind raced for a good reason. "Slender- I mean, Master probably wouldn't want me to do that," you nearly slipped up on giving the correct respects to Slenderman. Good save, though.

"What a shame," Jeffery Blalock mumbled before releasing your aching chin. He had gripped it pretty tight. No one seemed very gentle in this mansion. Well, except for Laughing Jack. So far, he was the nicest.

You watched as Jeff puffed on his cigarette and strolled toward the mansion lobby and out of your sight. A sigh of relief escaped you. That could have gone worse, and you were thankful that it hadn't.

Now, though, it was time to satisfy your complaining stomach. It continued to rumble and gargle with pathetic sounds. So, you continued your way down the hall as you were told to do. When you reached the end of the hallway, all you could see was an incredibly dark area to your left. You assumed that this was the kitchen, but how on earth would you find anything without a darn light switch?

Well, there were other ways to turn on lights, thanks to technology. So, you began going through every idea that hit your mind. Clapping, snapping, yelling, stomping, making some sort of noise. You even attempted to wave, but to no avail.

"Will it," a voice startled you. The voice sounded new, and slightly muffled. "But you have to be an official Proxy to do that." You turned to find a hooded figure standing next to you. From the limited light of the windows, you could see that the hoody was a yellow tint of some sort. His face was too full of shadows to see what he looked like.

Saying nothing more, the apparent Proxy stepped past you. Lo! And Behold! The kitchen was then lit up in a brilliance of crisp light. You stared into a large, extremely roomy kitchen styled something similar to a country home. Red bricks decorated the walls while tan marble flooring welcomed you onto its surface. A large steel refrigerator sat against a wall on one side, while a barrage of tan wooden cabinets lined the other. A magificent stove with several variously sized burners sat against the wall straight across from you. The equally as splendid metal sink wasn't far away from the cooking top. The kitchen had everything you could need for having a holiday family meal and still not run out of room!

Then, you realized who was talking to you just earlier. This was Hoodie. His now much clearer appearance clicked your mind into gear. He would be one of your high-ranked teammates later on. You should make good terms with him.

You quickly stepped into the kitchen, hoping to make conversation with Hoodie. He, on the other hand, seemed to ignore you as he opened the fridge and dug around. You asked what there was to eat, but he only shrugged and responded with, "Whatever you fix."

"You guys don't cook large meals for each other?" Your data on the Creepypasta mansion that you had gathered from fanfictions and the internet was quickly doing down the drain as this day went on.

"No?" Hoodie looked over his shoulder, confusion in his voice. You couldn't quite tell, thanks to the dark mask, but surely he was quirking a brow at you apparently stupid question.

With disappointment, you accepted this new fact and began to explore the cabinets for a loaf of bread. Maybe you could make a sandwich of sorts. Meanwhile, Hoodie gathered up a can of beer and some ham slice that he snatched out of a plastic bowl. As grand as this kitchen was, you could help but think that maybe Hoodie was lying to you. The kitchen was even excessively clean, as though it had been used plenty of times before. Maybe you could cook something up for everyone?

Sneaking a glance at the opened fridge, you noticed how empty it looked. Whipping up a large meal sounded like a great thing to do, but you needed ingredients.

You wondered if Slenderman would let you go shopping for the mansion.


	4. Chapter 4

**I think the chapters keep getting longer. lol Oh well, I'm sure you guys aren't complaining about that. :P**  
><strong>Also, the next chapter will involve Eyeless Jack, then I'll end the day (in story time) to get the whole "tests" thing moving. That'll be interesting, eh?<strong>

**Please review! I wanna know what you guys think! D:**

_Chapter 4_

"No," the increasingly familiar voice boomed in your head, rather than around you like last time. Slenderman had refused your request to go grocery shopping for the mansion. His reasons were that you were not yet a Proxy, and thus he couldn't trust you on your own.

Not wanting to be strangled again, you didn't bother arguing with your possible new master. Instead, you decided to explore the mansion. There were most likely other Creepypastas lazing around. You wondered how many others you would meet during your time here. With this thought in mind, you began trying to recall all the Creepypastas you had read about back in the day. It hadn't been more than a year since you left the fandom, but you had already forgotten so much. The fact that you were here, now with the real deals, made you wish you hadn't given up on the Creepypasta era.

By the time you exited your pondering, you discovered that your autopilot self had brought you back down the hallway and into the lobby. There was a door across the room, exactly where your master had stood earlier. There was a light on. A little dim, but still clear. Brighter than that, though, was the flickering of a television screen from behind the doorway. Your curiosity grew, wondering who you would meet this time. Hoodie had ignored you in the kitchen, so he wasn't any use, for the time being.

Shoving your hands into your pants pocket, you half-strolled and half-tip-toed across the lobby. It was a bit of a silly walk, but you couldn't help yourself. Even after what had happened with Slenderman and Jeff, your excitement for being in the Creepypasta mansion had you feeling at least a little giddy by this point. Something deep down inside you poked a reminder that your joy would eventually wear out. You were still human, after all. You were a possible target for everyone in the house. Most likely, the only reason you hadn't been killed yet, is because Slenderman wanted you as a Proxy.

You reached the doorway, taking in the atmosphere of a fanciful living room. There were a couple of bookshelves on the wall to your left, along with a reading area – lamp and all. Across from you was a circle of recliners and loveseats, all surrounding a round wooden coffee table. To your right, was a large, antique couch facing a moderately sized flat-screen television that hung on the wall. On the utterly bright screen was the familiar green-clad character from the Nintendo 64 days – Link. He was running around a dark and gloomy looking town, not really accomplishing anything. You glanced to the couch to see who was playing the game, only to see a similar green cap poking from beyond the furniture's back.

This guy seemed like he would be at least tolerant of you. Maybe you two could get along after a little chat. So, you stepped over to one side of the couch and cleared your throat in an effort to break the silence between the two of you. The television screen flashed to a save menu. All of the files available were titled "BEN". Then you remembered who this guy was.

"You're the new recruit?" Ben Drowned eyed you. His red irises encircled in endless black had a depth you could only describe as the sensation of drowning in. The stains of blood trickled down his cheeks as tears. Ben only started at you coldly, waiting for an answer.

The sight of the real-life Ben had shaken you up a little. You stammered over your words, "I was just, uh," you realized what he had asked you. "Oh, yeah. I guess I am."

With a snort, Ben turned his had back to the game and continued on with his business.

"Okay," you contorted your mouth in frustration. It seemed that Ben wasn't going to be as great of a person as you thought. Still, you decided to try a little harder, and sat down on the end of the couch, giving Ben his space. He only glanced at you for a second. "What game are you play?" You asked, mostly just trying to get Ben to talk. You knew it was a Legend of Zelda game, but you actually were sure which one.

"Majora's Mask," Ben grumbled to you. His eyes didn't leave the screen this time. He seemed almost absorbed in the game; a trance of sorts.

"Oh, yeah?" You watched the Link look-alike. Creepier than himself was the haunting gaze that he cast upon the game. It was as though a part of him was the game, itself. "You play it a lot?"

"This is the only game I play."

"Darn," you made yourself sound disappointed. In truth, you partially were. "This isn't a multiplayer game, either. I was hoping to play a game with you." You started at Ben, waiting for him to answer with a proposal of trying out a game.

The save menu opened up again. Ben went through all the motions to save his current file, then shoved the controller in your direction. Something wasn't right about him, though. There was a devious curl in his lips now. He said coyly, "You wanna play?"

Afraid to infuriate him, you complied and grabbed the controller. Carefully, your fingers tapped the buttons in an effort to remind yourself what they all did. You managed to exit from the save menu, finding Link standing in the middle of the game's town.

A flash of light from your left caught you off guard. Electrical surges whizzed past your ears. When you glanced to see if Ben was okay, you discovered that he was no longer sitting on the couch with you. He was, in fact, gone. Before you could call out to him, Ben's voice came through the television speakers, "Let's play."

You didn't feel like playing anymore. Something about the way he said it sounded much too crooked. Still, you didn't want to anger him. You pushed the analog stick to begin directing Link to explore the town. Link did as you pleased, though you soon found that there was little to do. There weren't even any NPCs to talk to. The incredibly strange background music was dizzying; it sounded like a sweet song being played backwards.

After some time, you found the Happy Mask Salesmen. His repeated chuckling quickly irked your nerves. You tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't say a word. This game seemed rather off; not like the video games you were used to. Still, you returned to wandering the town, searching ever inch.

Soon, you noticed a humanoid figure standing on top of the Clock Tower. With closer inspection, you found that it was some masked character. Skull Kid, you think. You searched through your various items and decided to fire arrows, since there was no other way to reach the character. Each arrow made contact with Skull Kid, and he went reeling back to assure you of it. Then, he slowly straightened himself back into his neutral stance, staring at you.

"That won't do you any good here," a new voice taunted you from the game. Surely it came from Skull Kid.

You didn't have time to figure it out, though. Something else was happening. Link was being lifted up by an unknown force, tilting to lay on his back. Link's arms and legs went swinging as he struggled to get out of the mysterious grip. You watched in horror as Link's body burst into flames, his screams blaring through the television speakers. The crackling and burning of Link's flames seemed so real. You could hear them as though they were right on you. No, they _were_ on you! You were on fire, too!

Tossing the controller aside, you began screaming as the sensation of your skin melting off your very bones filled your nervous system. You could see the flames flickering right in front of your eyes. You looked down at your hands, only to confirm your fears. In a desperate attempt to put out the fire, you dropped to the floor and began rolling around, squirming and writhing. Your screams matched the volumes of Link's. Footsteps could be heard from the room's entrance.

"Put her out, Ben," Slenderman's voice boomed his command.

Someone else ran over to you. "Calm down, _!" He gripped your shoulders and tried to hold you down. "It's not real!" You caught a glimpse of orange circles as your vision began to blur, the sensation of fire had gone away as quickly as it came. Your vision darkened until you fell unconscious.

It wasn't long before you awoke with an unfamiliar face staring down at you. Someone had moved you to lay on the couch. Your skin wasn't on fire anymore, and there seemed to be no resulting pain from the situation beforehand. "What happened?" You had to ask. You knew you were on fire just a while ago.

The young man staring at you frowned a bit. He glanced up to someone who was behind your view, "Ben likes to set people on f-fire." This new person stuttered a little. He also seemed to have a regular twitch with his body. "It wasn't real fire, though," the orange-goggled man patted your shoulder, "he just m-makes you think it is."

"Come on, Toby," Ben's voice sighed behind you, "you always ruin my fun."

"That's because y-you did it to me!" The man named Toby stood up in his defense. "I didn't know it w-was fake for months!"

"Both of you, silence yourselves!" Slenderman boomed from behind the couch. You sat up to take a look. Your master somehow eyed you, and you knew it. He said, "Consider that your first test, _. I suggest you become familiar and tolerant of such pain if you want to survive as my Proxy."

You took a huge gulp of anxiety as you nodded to Slenderman. You weren't sure why you agreed to what he said. That pain was the worst you had ever experienced, and it would be a regular thing? How did you get yourself into this mess?

With a regretful groan, you sank into the antique couch and hugged your knees. "How can anyone be okay with all that pain?"

Toby adjusted himself to sit right next to you. Ben did the same. All three of you stared at the "Game Over" screen on the television. Toby answered your rhetorical question, "I actually can't feel physical pain." Your eyebrow quirked at Toby, seeing the plot-hole in what he had said to Ben earlier. He noticed this and waved you off, saying, "Ben showed me what pain was like, though. His fire messes with your mind."

A proud chuckling sounded from Ben. "It's one of my specialties. I love to get inside people's heads; not literally, of course."

"I see..." You grasped this possibility, finding that Ben was much scarier than you had anticipated.

A black gloved hand fell in front of you, extended and open. Following the connecting arm, you realized that it was Toby smirking down at you. "So, you're the new candidate, huh?"

"Yeah," you hesitantly took Toby's hand and shook it.

After releasing each others grip, Toby continued, "Not at lot of them m-make it through the tests, but it's for a good reason."

"What reason is that?" You eyed Toby curiously.

Toby remained silent. He looked past you to make eye contact with Ben. Neither exchanged words, but Toby decided to answer you, "You'll find out if you become an official Proxy."

It only occurred to you now, but you there was always a good chance that you wouldn't pass these unknown tests. If that were to happen, what would become of you? Would Slenderman just release you back into the human world as though nothing had happened? Then what? You expressed these questions to Toby, only to receive an answer you didn't want to hear.

"You get to be prey for one of the Creepypastas in the mansion."


	5. Chapter 5

**Woo! Got the fifth chapter up!  
>Thank you for the reviews! They mean a lot. And thank you for the favs and follows!<strong>

_Chapter_ 5

The weight of Toby's words hung heavy in your chest. To be honest, you had that tiny feeling that death would be your reward if you were to fail Slenderman's Proxy tests. Most of you had hoped that things would start to lighten up and everyone would turn in to the characters you had read about so long ago. Reality was sinking in fast. These Creepypastas were the real thing. They were scary, bloodthirsty people – creatures – who enjoyed watching humans suffer. They didn't mind using brutality to get their way, and you were no exception – save for the limits that Slenderman would allow.

You decided to go back to your room. You wanted to hide away from everyone before you got into more trouble. Being theoretically burned alive was not something you wanted to experience again. Who knows what else you would have to deal with? For now, this was enough of an introduction to the rest of your life. Such a taste was bitter and mysterious. You had to get your thoughts together for a while.

Tomorrow would be the true beginning of your new life, though. Tomorrow, the real pain would start.

You managed to you reach your bedroom door without meeting another Creepypasta or Proxy on the way. The serenity of not having to worry was quite pleasant. As you passed Masky's room, you did hear the steady beeping of his heart monitor. Temptation filled you. Curiosity craved the knowledge of what happened to him. You didn't particularly care about him, but you wanted to know exactly what he had gone through. He was one of Slenderman's Proxies, therefore, you would experience similar things to Masky's current pain.

Clenching the bronze doorknob that held you between the hallway and your haven of a bedroom, you considered the risks of visiting Masky. Would someone enter after you did? Would they try to hurt you? Was someone else already in there? Your mind wandered to your first encounter with Masky and Laughing Jack. They seemed pretty calm and collected. Jack was more concerned with Masky's health than his "playtime" with you. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to go there for just a few minutes.

An eery silence feel on your ears, much similar to when you first left your bedroom. The faint ringing was stressing, making you think that you were making much more noise than you really were. You laid a hand over the doorknob that led to Masky's room, twisted it, and gently pushed the door open.

It was dark again. Tiny lights from the machines were all that illuminated from the darkness. A fleeting thought slipped across your mind, questioning how exactly the Creepypastas had acquired all of this medical equipment. Most likely stolen, of course. Your focus returned to the current situation, and you closed the door behind you. Your other hand reached around on the wall next to you, searching for the light switch.

"Don't turn on the light," a weak voice forced itself from its source. You assumed it was Masky, accepting his command.

"What," you paused, feeling a little bad that you may have woken the Proxy, "What happened to you?" Images of the once illuminated room flashed through you mind as you tried to remember where things were and weren't. You shuffled your feet across the floor, holding out your hands to prevent you from colliding with the bed or a machine.

A wheezing inhale of Masky's lungs squeezed at your chest. Regret began to fill you for making the poor man talk in such a state. Masky replied anyway, "I made mistakes."

Part of you wanted to question further, and the rest of you wanted to just let Masky rest. You bit your lip, trying to hold back your thoughts so they wouldn't escape your mouth. You reached the side of Masky's bed, only just bumping into it to rock it slightly. "S-sorry," you quickly apologized with a cringe. One thought broke its way out of you, "Are you going to live?" Immediately, you winced at your yourself for doing exactly what you were trying not to.

Several long seconds crept by with only the sounds of Masky's wheezing and the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. A sense of doubt filled the air, and you could feel it easily. Eventually, Masky did answer you, "I've been through worse."

"You can't be serious," you shook with fear and pity. Was this what you would go through as a Proxy? And how could Masky have gone through worse, only to survive? He sounded like death!

"Master emits an aura," Masky's weak voice began to explain was he wheezed between every few words, "that hastens his Proxie's healing rates." A deep, strained wheeze passed through Masky's wind pipes. Talking seemed to be laboring him.

You reached around the bedside, searching for a familiar mass of flesh to connect with your fingers. Eventually, you did find Masky's hand, and you intertwined your fingers with his. It wasn't out of love, nor was it out of friendship; you simply felt so much pity for someone who was once human like you. For this person - for all of the Proxies - to go through this on a, most likely, regular basis, you feared your own fate. You feared their fates. Slenderman was sending them out on missions that were near suicidal.

"It's not Master's fault," Masky uttered as though he were reading your mind. "I once thought the same thing when I first met Hoodie." He inhaled a few times, trying to catch his breath. A gentle squeeze of your hand hinted to you that he was in pain while trying to breathe. Masky continued talking anyway, "When a Proxy gets hurt, its our own fault. You'll learn why over time." Once again, Masky wheezed in a breath of air, only this time forcing out a congested coughing fit. He gripped your hand tight, crunching your knuckles under his own pressure. Between a few coughs, Masky yelled out in agony, then returned to his fit of hacking. The heart monitor began to race, your own heart matched with it, surely.

Just as you were turning to go get someone, the door opened. A new face switched on the lights, showing off his blue mask that seemed to have a dark ooze dripping down its cheeks. "Get out of here," the blue one exclaimed. He rushed to Masky's side, shoving you away. You stumbled back, only to fall on your aft as you watched the new Creepypasta snatch up a small object from the bedside table and shove it over Masky's mouth. You heard something like compressed air release. Masky soon relaxed into his pillow.

"One more," the new man said. You heard the compressed air hiss again. Masky inhaled a deep breath, sounding much less congested than earlier.

"Thanks, Jack," Masky exhaled his breath in a conservative manner, as though trying to hold in whatever he had just inhaled from the object in the other's hand.

"Quit talking," the apparent 'Jack' commanded. "You know you shouldn't be talking for a few days." He turned to look at you, setting the object that you then recognized as an inhaler back on the table. "You! I told you to get out! You were making him talk, weren't you?"

You began to stammer out senseless words, not sure what this Creepypasta would do to you. Blood seemed to escape you, your fingertips tingling and your tongue feeling dry. You could only observe as Jack stomped over to you and lifted you up by the collar of your shirt. His drug you out of the room, switching off the light, and nearly slamming the door behind himself. Gripping his strong arm, you tried to get stable on your feet, but all they did was drag along the floor. Jack continued down the hall, bringing you God knows where.

"You new kids are nothing but trouble. Never able to mind your own business," Jack lectured you, easily carrying you around. "Stay away from Masky. He shouldn't be talking in his condition. That should have been obvious to you!"

"That's enough, Eyeless Jack," a familiar voice came from further down the hall. From your previous experiences, you would be dead scared to hear it, but right now, you were more than grateful. "Put her down."

Eyeless Jack complied with Slenderman's order. He simply released his grip on your shirt and allowed you to stumble around as you caught your balance. "Keep her out of Masky's room." Jack pointed at you accusingly. How could this guy talk to Slenderman that way? Was he not a Proxy?

With only a nod, Slenderman dismissed Eyeless Jack from the scene. The blue-masked man stormed down the stair case, muttering obscenities to himself. Slenderman held his attention on you. Your eyes studied anything but your future Master's form. It was quiet for a moment as your searched for something to say, maybe even waiting for Slenderman to say something.

You ended up being the first to speak, "I just wanted to see how bad it was to be a Proxy." You flinched, realizing how dumb your reasoning was.  
>"Well, now you know. I suggest you refrain from conversing with Masky until his has healed further," Slenderman replied.<p>

Nodding frantically, you accepted the tall being's words, relieved that he wasn't going to strangle you again. "I'm just going back to my room now," you gestured behind you. "I promise I'm not going back to Masky's room."

A single nod was all you needed to turn tail and run to your room. You shoved the door open, then clicked it behind you, pressing your back against its solid form. A few relaxing breaths rushed in and out of your lungs. This was not what you were hoping to happen, but it did turn out better than it could have. Whatever Eyeless Jack was going to do to you, it was stopped by Slenderman, and you silently thanked him for that.

At this point, you just wanted to relax in your room. No more snooping around and getting curious. You would save that for tomorrow, most likely. So, you crawled into your bed, gazing at the white ceiling that loomed over you, and putting together the events of the day. To be honest, not much happened, but it seemed like quite a bit. Your eyelids felt incredibly heavy almost as soon as you hit the bed. Maybe you were still worn out from the day before? Either way, whilst lost in your thoughts of all that had happened so far, your mind decided to shut down. Everything went black.


	6. Chapter 6

**WARNING: language and some gore. **

**I'm actually thinking about adding the full detail of what you do (concerning the gory part). You guys decide and I'll most likely write it and update this chapter. If you prefer the gory bits, then I'll make sure to put them in later chapters when I need. **

**Please let me know!**

_Chapter 6_

You were abruptly jerked out of your slumber by an echoing crash throughout the mansion. Though it had been muffled by the walls and bedroom door, you were easily brought back to consciousness. A pair of familiar voices screeched in the air, bickering at each other. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you climbed out of bed to inspect the situation. For whatever reason, you didn't think about the risks you were taking, concerning your safety from murderous psychopaths.

Stumbling down the staircase and following the continuous noises of yelling and thing breaking, you approached the archway to the living room. There, you took in the horrendous sight of the television sparking and smoking, a game controller forced halfway through the screen. The television was hanging on the wall with an obvious tilt to it. Upon further inspection, you noticed the couch had been turned on its back, a bookshelf had been knocked over, scattering literature all over the floor, and a couple of lamps had been thrown to the floor.

"You little bitch!" The raspy shriek of Jeff's voice echoed from down the hall that burrowed past the staircase. "I'm gonna fuck you up!"

"Fuck you, Jeff!" Ben's younger voice retorted to Jeff.

You followed the voices, unfamiliar with this part of the mansion. The hall was terribly dark, and you could just barely make out the definitions of doors and decorations.

A shadow whizzed past you, only noticeable for the fact that the rushing air brushed your cheek. Something else flew past you, though it made less of an impact on the air than the previous passerby. There was a firm thunk into the flooring, then the sporadic clinking of something metal dancing on the marble tiles. You whipped your head around to find a knife skidding down the hallway, back toward the lobby. A third something rushed by your side, though he was more vocal about his existence, "You little motherfucker! Get back here!" Jeff turned a sharp left at the bottom of the staircase, having his bare feet nearly slipping out from underneath him.

A warm hand rested itself on your shoulder. You jumped, not expecting someone else to be part of whatever was going on. You shakily turned your head to eye the hand, finding its long, pale shape to be much more decrepit up close. Following the arm's lead, your eyes ran upward until they found a pale oval of sorts staring down at you. It was then that you noticed the hallways had lit up just enough to expose its contents.

"Sl-Master," you nearly slipped up on how you should speak to Slenderman again.

Slenderman nodded, "Good girl." The sound of glass shattering echoed in the distance. "I would appreciate that you avoid bickering and destroying my abode as those two do."

You gulped and nodded, thankful that Slenderman wasn't here to blame you for the ruckus. "I'll be sure to do that, sir." Turning the rest of your body to face your master, you remembered what needed to be done today. "When are my tests supposed to start?"

"Ah, yes," Slenderman hissed, seemingly pleased with being reminded of this little event. He lifted his hand from your shoulder and tapped a single finger to his chin. "I suppose you've already passed the first two tests, considering that you proved that you are capable of killing those whom you should love and those whom you hate; however," he prolonged his final word as though producing a sly idea within his black hole of a mind, "you have yet to kill someone whom you have neutral feelings for."

Someone you don't have feelings for? Just a random human being. A person you've never met, let alone, knew existed. "That should be easy enough," you said, though, within yourself, you felt something stir. Maybe it was doubt. You wouldn't be completely sure until the test began.

"Follow me," Slenderman gestured to you as he spun around on his heels and began to stroll further down the hallway. You followed, curious, yet reluctant.

This hall seemed endless, as did the mansion, itself. Aside from the various doors, you also noticed other branch-ways of more hallways. You could only imagine what could be hiding within the mansion – what Slenderman could possibly have such a large home for. Perhaps rooms for other Creepypastas? Torture rooms? A massive library? Storage? Did Slenderman start off with just a simple house?

The being involved in your thoughts broke the entrancing silence, "You will eventually learn what resides within this building," he paused, "if you survive long enough, of course." Slenderman stopped in front of a large, old door. He pressed a hand flat against its surface, then opened it with an effortless push. The thick door swung open to reveal a bleak and stench-filled room. The scent of blood and decay filled your nostrils, making you gag. "I suggest you accustom yourself to this," Slenderman said nonchalantly, then stepped through the entrance to the room.

A single window on the far wall was all that lit the room, which hardly at all. As you followed your master into the strangely cold area, you noticed the stone walls and ceiling. It felt like a jail cell from long ago; however, this one was much large and lacked the scurrying of rats.

The jingling of chains rang in your ears. "No," someone whimpered. "No, please!" You cast your eyes in the direction of the voice. There, you saw Slenderman approaching a human who had been chained to the cold wall.

"_, come," Slenderman commanded. You obliged and hurried to your master's side.

"Please help me," the human begged you. Its effeminate voice only making it sound increasingly pathetic. You couldn't tell if it was a man or woman, due to this side of the wall being so dark.

Slenderman hummed a thought to himself, one that you began to notice as sign of mischievous thoughts running through his mind. "Oh, I will help you. Perhaps a bit of light will aid your effect on my dear candidate." At that, a single bare light bulb flickered awake above your head. You then clearly saw the person chained to the wall.

Blood-stained clothes, ripped in various sections. The ragged blonde hair of the young boy stuck to his forehead from the sweat and blood that had smeared on him. He looked to be about your age. His scrawny figure shivered in fear as his blue eyes gazed up to you, pleading for mercy. The boy's wrists and ankles had been bruised and cut into from the shackles around them; he had been struggling.

A pale hand lowered into your view. In its palm you found a pristine knife, long and sharp. You looked up to Slenderman, sending a question of his orders through your eyes.

"I would prefer a display of your endurance, _." Slenderman held his gaze toward the victim on the wall. "Do what you wish to the human, but keep him alive for as long as you can withstand his screaming."

Your eyes flashed between the knife and then boy. Thoughts of your previous murders returned to your mind. Those killings had been quick and generally silent. Slenderman wanted you to listen to this boy's screams. He wanted you to torture this person! That wasn't your style, though.

"If you desire to be my Proxy," Slenderman added, "then I must be able to trust that you can kill whomever I appoint you to."

So, this was why he wanted you to kill and random person. The torture didn't make much sense, though. Maybe he wanted to make sure you could stomach the murder of anyone he wanted? A faint chuckle from Slenderman's wake confirmed your thoughts.

With a shaking hand, you plucked the knife from you master's and studied the blade's perfection. No doubt it would cut cleanly. Something told you that Slenderman preferred it that way. This was a test if you could please him, after all.

The boy's whimpering increased when he saw you take the knife. He knew what was coming, and thus began to sob. "Please don't do it! Please!"

You bit your lip, part of yourself understanding where the boy was coming from. You had gone through your own sort of torture. Now, after beridding those who hurt you, it was your turn to do the torturing of someone you barely even knew – if at all. Life was funny like that, wasn't it? You had gotten your revenge, but now you were to suffer being the exact person you hated.

"Heh," a humorous breath escaped your lips. It grew into a giggle, then a cackle. "This is hell, isn't it?" You laughed to yourself, still gazing at the knife. "I died in the woods, and now I'm in hell. I'm doomed to forever see the point of views of my victims." You gripped the knife handle, then stepped up to the sobbing boy. "Well, if that's the case, then I might as well make a game out of it."

For the first cut, you decided to carefully slice down the boy's chest, right in the center. The silvery blade split the threads of your victim's shirt as thought it were butter. Blood trickled down, chasing after your knife as the boy screamed out. His voice rang in your ears, making them want to burst. You clasped your free hand over his mouth, only to deal with his struggling and attempted thrashing. Still, you continued to run the knife down his chest until you reached his belly button.

This was just like biology class, except this wasn't a frog – and he was alive. You thought it best to start off this way because it was the frog was something you had neutral feelings for. Yes, just a frog.

A pair of hands gripped your shoulders and pulled you back, allowing the boy to scream openly. Slenderman leaned down to your ear and said, "This is no frog. Take a good look, my dear _. I want you know exactly what you're doing."

The blonde boy struggled against the shackles and chains. His wrists and ankles began to bleed with fresh fluids. The long cut down his chest and stomach trickled freely, weeping with pain. The sobbing of the boy hit your ears like a broken record as he begging you to stop. "No more," he blubbered.

"Oh, but this was just the first cut," Slenderman replied to your victim. He then pushed you forward, urging you to continue what you had started.

You were now shaking. You knew full well that this was a fellow human that you were carving in to. This was no frog, no animal, no person who you hated. This boy was probably some kid who was bullied at school just like you were. He was just like you. That's right. He was you, and you were the bully.

You really were in hell.


	7. Chapter 7

_**It's about effing time I updated this! Right?**_  
><em><strong>Sorry about that. : I got sick for a week, and I wasn't really sure what to do with this chapter. Well, I knew what I wanted to happen, but not how to write it out, if that makes sense.**_  
><em><strong>But, here you go! Enjoy!<strong>_

_Chapter 7_

The stench of metallic bodily fluids were all that you could smell – all that you could taste. It weighed heavy in the air, just as the boy's now deceased body weighed against the chains that otherwise held him up. You stepped back, trying to admire your work on the corpse, but you found yourself gawking, instead. Remnants of the boy's unclotted blood dripped from his numerous wounds, ringing loudly in your ears. They seemed to tick the seconds by, reminding you that time hadn't stopped, though it sure felt like it.

Had you really done this? Had you truly dissected an innocent boy? Skinned him alive? Removed his organs one by one, depending on how important they were to survive?

To many humans, this would be considered an grotesque mess of mutilation and horror. Your soon-to-be-master, Slenderman, saw it as a form of high-quality art. His large, bony hand patted your shoulder with approval, "I must say, _, your incisions are divine."

"Have I," you gulped, not sure if you're speaking out of turn, "have I passed the test?" Your eyes remained frozen on your artistic slaughter.

A chuckle echoed above you as Slenderman plucked the knife from your shivering hand, "You've passed with grace."

You whirled around to face the Tall Man, finding him to be walking away from you into a darker corner of the room. "That means I'm a Proxy now, right?"

Slenderman disappeared into the darkness, followed by the faint clinking of metal. He soon returned, knife no long in hand, and stopped only just within view. "Far from it, young _. You still must prove your loyalty and endurance."

Your heart sank at Slenderman's response. From the sounds of it, you had two more tests to attempt. That means two more chances to fail. Two more chances for you to be eaten or dismembered or both by one of the Creepypastas in the mansion.

"Come," Slenderman waved a hand and exited the dungeonesque room with you close behind.

The tall form of your Master lead you deeper into the mansion, soon approaching a pair of large glass doors. Beyond these doors, you could see a lively garden of exotic flora. Something told you to be careful around them.

Pushing the glass doors open, Slenderman stepped outside, his pristine dress shoes clicking on the stone patio. You closed the doors behind you, confusion filling your head with questions of why you would have a test out here. All the while, Slenderman was inspecting the flowers, almost ignoring your presence. The silence between you two was unnerving, to say the least. Whatever this entity was planning, it couldn't be good.

A gust of wind blew across the patio, sprinkling a fair amount of pollen right across your nose. The tiny flower sperm tickled your nostrils until you finally couldn't contain yourself further. You released a powerful sneeze, making your presence irresistibly known.

Slenderman turned to you, calm as ever and pulled the neatly folded handkerchief from his suit pocket. He approached you, and offered the cloth tissue without a word. Something radiated from him, though. A slyness in his air.

Reluctantly, you accepted the tissue and wiped your nose with it, sniffling out the discomfort you had created with your sneeze.

"Better?" Slenderman questioned, breaking the awkward silence.

Immediately, your vision blurred only just enough for you to notice. Your head, however, felt incredibly light and dizzy. Something was on that tissue. A chemical or poison, but it was something.

"I'm not sure," you stumbled through your short utterance of words. Eyeing Slenderman, you noticed a fiercely jagged line appear across his otherwise nonexistent face. The line gradually grew thicker as you stared at it in horror. Were you hallucinating? You couldn't tell.

"Then I suggest you run," Slenderman's voice growled hungrily. The strange jagged line was no longer a mystery to you. This was the being's mouth! His variously lengthened teeth lined his lips like the mouth of an ancient cave.

You didn't waste time. There was no reason to ask why you should run, considering that this was indeed a monster threatening you. Nearly slipping from under yourself, your feet attempted to turn and push you at the same time, eager to get away from the danger. You found your stability and high-tailed it right across the patio, crashing through a bush of some flora your weren't familiar with. Beyond this garden, you recognized the dark forest you had seen from outside your bedroom window. You pushed yourself harder to escape into the thickly collected trees.

The crunching and scattering of leaves didn't aid your attempt to hide yourself. Besides that, every time you tried to stop and hide, you would see Slenderman just in the distance, watching you with a predatory aura around him. Your breath was already heavy, no thanks to the combination of fear, adrenaline, and the constant running. It didn't help that whatever was on that handkerchief completely affected your thought process.

There were many times that you could have sworn someone else was chasing you. There were other sets of footsteps in the forest, rushing around nearby. Each time you whipped your head around in its direction, there would be nothing to give reason to the noises. Then, of course, you would find the ever aggressive Slenderman closing in on you. The very sight of his horizontally split head rushing down to devour you was more than enough to get you running again. When you would look back, the entity would be gone without a trace.

With heavy, raspy breaths drying out your throat, you continued further into the forest of orange and black. You didn't know how long you had been running, but you could feel your body begging to give way from underneath you. Your legs felt like jello, yet you were able to continue swinging them just enough to keep your propelled forward. Your stumbling amplified with each step, though. By this point, your vision was blurred over completely. The only reason you could just navigate the forest was due to its contrast in colors.

Unfortunately, your vision began to tunnel. A ringing in your ears chimed from somewhere within your head. You felt nauseated, though not enough to empty your bowls just yet.

As the high-frequency ringing grew ever louder, your vision closed in on itself. Then, you saw nothing. A crunching sound, along with a solid _thump_, vaguely registered in your mind. You began to dream.

It involved the Halloween-styled forest, its master standing within your view. His dark tendrils waved from behind him like patient serpents waiting to strike. Something forced you to hold a gaze on Slenderman's stark face. Even when you tried to close your eyes, you somehow still saw straight through the lids clear as day. Panic coursed through you, the empty stare from Slenderman picking away at your sanity. You tried to turn your gaze, but nothing would result in what you wanted. His hold on your vision was strong, and he wanted you to see his glory – his power.

A rush of cold water stung your face, bringing you back to an awakened state. Your sudden gasp at the freezing liquid caused a bit to enter your trachea. A short session of breathless coughs got you moving to sit up.

"No time for naps, candidate!" Hoodie's voice had a hint of amusement laced within.

You looked up to find the yellow-clad man standing over you with an empty pale in hand. The mask hiding his face had a noticeably red frown on it, but you sensed a smirk behind it. "What the hell happened?" You woozily tried to stand, still feeling the dizzying effects of whatever was in that handkerchief

"Well, you passed the endurance test! Just above the 'average' time, too," Hoodie tossed the pale to a corner of the familiar garden patio. He patted a firm hand on your shoulder to congratulate you.

"So," you tried to piece everything together, "Master wasn't trying to kill me?"

Raising his hands to imitate a balance scale, Hoodie replied, "Kinda sorta? I mean, if you didn't keep running, he'd kill you, but he wasn't trying very hard, either."

You gulped, realizing just how lucky you were to let your instincts get the best of you. "I'm pretty sure that wasn't also the loyalty test." It was worth at try to ask, but you inwardly knew the answer.

"That's the boring test," Hoodie sighed. "I can't say anything about it, but just know that it's boring." He then chuckled, "Well, I guess it depends how loyal you are."

Before you could question him further, Hoodie opened the glass doors leading back into the mansion, leaving you alone on the patio. Slenderman was nowhere to be found.


End file.
